Vindico

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She would wandered down the mountain, her belly growling hungrily. They needed to hunt, to eat, she could already feeling her stretching waning. Her fur clung tightly to bones that started to protrude in the most unattractive manner. Wings flared as paws touched down on the snow covered plains. Crown tipped back, jaws parting as she released a call. Her pack was summoned, as well as informing the Ice King of their presence, as well as extending an invite.
<P>
It was time to hunt. She would search the plains, following tracks in the thick snow. Nostrils flared as she scented the foreign air of the plains. Perhaps the gods had no forsaken them. A herd of deer wandered, they were thin, hardly a suitable meal, but it was something. Plus they could bring down two, maybe three, and it would be enough to last a few days, long enough to find more food.
<P>
She waited in the shadows, silently standing like a shadow beneath a bare tree. She would wait, wait for her pack and others to arrive. She was in no state to hunt by herself, let alone bring down enough food to take care of her pack. The winter wind whipped around her, the chill biting into her bones and tangling her feathers.

@andruil @Cardinal @Paradise @Warbler @Indian @Robin @Arlo @Citlali @Israfel @Pixie
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Though the days are cold and melancholy, the large brute refused to be distracted by the changes and would carry on with his usual duties, patrolling. As he slowly walked around the perimeter his blue gaze would fixate upon a figure within the distance. He had seen her the other day as she brought news of the new pack alliance, though Si'drue knew very little about the queen, so far he felt like she was making good decisions, making peace rather than enemies during a crisis like this. With little else to do, he would walk quickly towards her as he too was quickly growing hungry. The prey was more scarce now, though they weren't all gone completely. Some still lingered during the hard times and it was best that the wolves take their prizes while they still can. As he finally made his way over, he would nod his head in greeting and respect. " Do you mind if I join you?" He would speak, hoping she would accept, though it was only polite, seeing as she was roaming in their pack lands. All the while the orange brute would remain a respectable distance away from her, so he had time to react to any sudden movements on her behalf. He couldn't help but take caution, better safe than sorry.

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@Caracara
A brightly colored male would approach. He smelled of this place. A smile touched her lips, greeting him with friendliness, this was after all his home. Of course, though I would like to wait for a few more. We'll be better off if we can catch more than one. She would murmur, careful to keep her voice low to avoid startling the herd. Eats swiveled restlessly, listening not only for more pack wolves but for anything that might startle their meal away. The woman stood quietly, aware of her surroundings. Cara, what's your name? She would inquire. She was fairly certain that she would be seeing more of him in the future, at least until the sun once again lit up the sky. She would cast him a sidelong glance, not daring to take her eyes off their next meal.
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                      <center><div style="border-bottom: 2px solid #c5c5c5 ; border-top: 2px solid #c5c5c5 ; padding-top: 8px;"><font style="font-family:Ruthie; font-size: 80px; font-style: none; text-transform: none; color: #c5c5c5; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #000000, 0px 0px 30px #ffffff; line-height: 100px; float: bottom; ">Citlali Deerheart</font></div>
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<p>Time to fly, time to touch the sky
One voice alone
A haunting cry</DIV>


<font style=" font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: none; text-transform: none; text-shadow: 0px 0px 9px #000000;">Citlali was less</font> than enthusiastic about braving the brutally cold eternal night to go hunt on the plains, but she knew the pack had to eat, and they needed everyone to pitch in. She flew through the night to heed Caracara's call, navigating by starlight.

One thing she had to admit, as she looked up to the constellations, was that the night sky had never looked more beautiful. The moon was full and white like the eye of a great beast, and the stars--distant, bright, and oh-so-cold--were heartbreakingly beautiful. The night was still and clear, like glass. She almost felt guilty that they would soon be disturbing it with bloodshed, but at the same time she felt a predatory excitement. This was wolf-nature at its core--to run and hunt with the pack over the frozen miles, and deliver their wild songs to the stars.

She spied Cara's form below, standing out starkly against the snow, along with a stranger. Curious, she spiraled downwards, sending the powdery flakes into a flurry as she beat her wings to slow her descent, then folded them and dropped neatly to the ground. She was improving. Andraste would be proud. As she loped over to the others, Citlali caught the scent of other wolves--a pack marker. Though she remembered Cara's news of an alliance, she still found herself feeling nervous at being on another pack's land. It was a force of habit, she supposed.

Her queen was greeted with a respectful nod and a tucked tail, then she turned to examine the newcomer. He was colored like the fire that flicked about his tail, making the snow around it hiss and steam. Gilded quills lay across his back. She wasn't sure if he was part of the pack that lived here, although it was quite likely. If she was going to be the lead healer of her own pack, perhaps it was time she started practicing some diplomacy. <font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;">"Hello there,"</font> she said, <font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;">"Come to try for a meal, too?"</font>

                                           <center> <font style=" color: #a1cbde; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #ffffff;">"May I speak?"</div></font>

<DIV style="text-align: CENTER; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #ffffff; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #ffffff; letter-spacing: 7px; line-height: 12px;">One song, one star burning bright
Let it carry me
Through darkest night</DIV>
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<center>CODE BY CHIP | ART BY FIFTYBLACKROSES
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@Caracara @sidrue
<center><table border="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100px; "><tbody><tr><td colspan="2"><font size="2"><div style="background: url('http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x373/NeonPaws95/3d8d5fcf-74e4-44bc-82bc-8ef0d6c1f532_zpsdlzsfssk.jpg'); border: 5px solid #FFFFFF; -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; -o-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left; margin-bottom: -7px; margin-left: -15px;"></div><div style=" font: 30pt serif; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: 2px solid #FFFFFF; line-height: 25px; text-transform: lowercase; length: 30px; margin-top: 40px; padding-left: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #ffb6c1;">ISRAFEL VAN ORRICK</div><div style=" font: 10pt arial; letter-spacing: -2px; background-color: #FFFFFF; padding: 3px; length: 100px; text-align: center;  text-transform: uppercase; color: #ffb6c1;">Found&nbsp something&nbsp real&nbsp that's&nbsp out&nbsp of&nbsp touch</div><br></font></td></tr><tr><td style="opacity: 0.8; margin-bottom: -10px; "><font size="2"><div style=" font: 7pt verdana; width: 300px; line-height: 11px; padding: 5px 5px 5px 25px; text-align: justify; color: Silver; border-left: 2px solid #FFFFFF; margin-left: 40px;">
 
 

<i>Moaning</i>, gnarled branches, <i>twisted</i> and intertwined did sway with grievous <i>melancholy</i> to that of the zephyr’s <i>glacial</i> kisses. Amid the atmosphere of frozen horrors did that of canticles <i>ring</i> across <i>blackened</i> skyline, doth’ the reaper’s fingers did <i>entangle</i>. Ah, and like that of the monstrous canopies which bore but empty refuge did silken vestments of ivory splendor <i>hang</i> and cling to that of fabrication sewn of <i>flesh</i> and <i>bone</i>. Behemoth beast of winter <i>wonderland</i> nightmare but large and sullen in thy flesh had yet to part with the essence which thrived within virile bodice. Sinew trembled beneath thickly woven cloak that graciously trapped the warmth beneath and ever closely to tender flesh; survivor of a man, even within the confines of winter tide’s <i>biting</i> grasp, muscle and weight had seemed but to barely flee from his formation. <i>Oscillating</i> scapula upon noble backside did <i>roll</i> and <i>tumble</i> like graceful winter waves as espadrilles slid across the frosted bosom of the world, ethereal and <i>ghostly</i> in such splendiferous movements! <p>

Ah, but a subtle <i>exhaustion</i> but did riddle gentleman’s bones; flesh may have been retained and muscle did stay, but the chill and duties of thy Stag King did but drive to a <i>weariness</i> which trampled only in the faintest of defiance amid eloquent stride and rise and fall of handsome breast. Ivory antlers sprung forth from monarchial dome, proud and noble in their crowning dignity as they but did cast the faintest of umbrage down upon the backside of his newest warrior as he stood at his flank. Peach tincture nares did flare, releasing plumes of heat from deep within as achromatic lashes did flutter and flick, thick not only by nature but by crystallized frost. <font color=#ffb6c1>”Si’drue.”</font> Rumbled he gently, chin tilting in the direction of his soldier in gratified recognition, a softly tired smile bounding across handsome bubble gum lips. Auricles swept forth upon thy dome, to rotate in the direction of the Queen, the woman which shared knitted bonds, <font color=#ffb6c1>”Queen Caracara.”</font> Softly did the chimerical man bow before returning to his normal stature. In the depths did the hunger pangs ring unabashed, although his needs were to be put lowest to those of his kingdom’s members… especially to those of the fairy maiden which bewitched his heart. It was for <i>her</i> for which jaws would hunt…









 
 
 
 
 
<font color=#ffb6c1>“Speech”</font>
 
 
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<p>
Yet, as all creatures did, he was summoned by the necessity of flesh and bone, of sacrifice made of life, to continue those amongst this silent citadel. Ominous in the tense corridors, those whom awaited the return of the infernal sun, engulfed by the zealous divine, the man left his sanctuary , a trail of blood in the snow, left by shed tuffs of feathered remains. His new train, was no longer soft, crisp and new were the new fabrics. His bed lay littered in cadmium clothe, woven and twisted, a cyclone of red in the ash and the muted.
<p>
They appeared like phantoms, the creatures of the peak, those of the wood, and those of foreign tongues. It was comforting, to feel the shadow of the barren canopy above, the gnarled pillars rising above them as silent spectators. He passed the flaming male, ghosted the steps of the timid woman, falling to step beside the winged lady, pressing his lean muzzle to the shaggy fur of her throat, silver eyes peeling back when another scent came. A pale man, ordained by alabaster antlers. Whispers of memories existed in this creatures description, one of the lord whom lay bound in ties of alliance. <font style="color:#eee3c7;"><b>"You must be Israfel,"</b></font> he hummed, turning his crown, assessing the man with a slow gaze, neither scrutinizing or misgiving. A roll of throaty gravel. The woodland realm had not treated him well, much as the creatures of the mountains. The gaunt pull of tense hide, the piercing bones of hip and spine riddling phantom cloak.
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<div style="text-align: justify; color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 11px; font-family: Arial; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: 15px; padding: 30px;margin:20px;text-shadow: 0px 0px 3px #1f1612;width:420;height:380px;overflow:auto;"><font style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; color: #000000; text-shadow: 0px 0px 3px #1f1612;font-size: 30px; border-bottom: 1px solid #120908;">Robin Willowreaver</font><br><br><br><br>
Robin heard the feathered woman's call, but wasn't able to answer it right away, his skinny, red-and-white body seemingly unwilling to part from the warmth of the tunnels that he had come to depend on. The dimness didn't even bother him, anymore; he'd much rather squint to see his own paws than have to deal with the harsh, bitter cold of the mountain's air, as well as the frost that coated every inch of stone. One careless misstep, and he could go flying off of a ledge or tumbling into the jaws of one of those wretched Snow Beasts...

In short, the young wolf didn't want to leave the tunnels, but ignoring his leader wasn't an option, and in the end he supposed that getting some food in his achingly-empty belly would be worth enduring the cold. He hadn't been eating as often as he would have liked, too terrified to stray out of the tunnels or ask someone to accompany him on a hunt, and his ribs were beginning to show through his pelt, thin as it was.

Stretching a little, Robin got up and made his way outside, trying and failing to suppress the immediate shiver that ran down his spine once the frigid air hit him. It was as cold as he'd figured it would be, but...but everyone else was probably cold, too. And Cara had been kind enough to bestow upon him the rank of hunter, something he wouldn't have ever imagined himself being. He had yet to prove his usefulness to her, let alone the entire pack, and perhaps now was as good of a time as any.

It wasn't long before Robin arrived at the place where the others had gathered. Though somewhat embarrassed about having come so late, he glanced over at Citali and Anduril and tried his best to muster up a smile, admittedly glad to see them. He and the wing'ed woman hadn't spoken much to one another, but she had always smiled at him during meetings, so it only seemed fair to return the gesture, and it was nice to see that the larger feathered man was with them.

But there were others, too; a startlingly-orange male, and one that boasted a coat of pure white, a large rack of antlers resting atop his head. Robin didn't recognize either of them, but he dipped his head toward them all the same, reminding himself of the announcement that Cara had made at their last meeting. They would be sharing their lands with a neighboring pack, now. Perhaps this hunt could be a sort of...well, bonding experience for all of them?

<center><font style="font-weight: bold; color: #4A0B0B;">"Speaking"</font></center></div>
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Original Coding by Layla/fiftyblackroses</center>
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The cold seemed to slowly pick away at the lands of Vindico, eating away at them until they became skinnier and weaker. Perhaps the Gods didn't exactly see this as a punishment, but as a test of strength and will, though if that was the case they had a weird way of showing it. They would unite with this new pack, though it would seem the two packs knew very little of one another. As a call rung out across the lands to summon everyone together, Paradise would waste no time, pacing over to meet Cara. As she made the journey she would ignore the snarls of her stomach commanding her to eat and would instead focus her energy on the beauty of the place. The skeletal trees sway solemnly side to side and today the birds would not sing. Amidst all the silence Paradise could only here the soft crunch of the ground beneath her as she takes each step. Once she finally reached the area and cautiously entered pack lands, which she still couldn't help but think was wrong and dirty, invading someone else's home with ought them greeting her first. She would find a small gathering, some of Caelum which put her mind at ease and two other strangers from the other pack, one seemed to be the king and the other it's guard or soldier? She wasn't quite sure. The ashen nymph would remain quiet through out, waiting for the event to take place.


<font style="color: #262836; font-variant: small-caps;"><b>"Speech."</b></font> <font style="color: #F6F6F7;"><em>Thoughts.</em></font></div></div>
Citlali arrived before the man could speak. A smile would lift her lips at the womans promptness. The King himself would arrive next and she would greet him. Israfel. With a dip of her crown. He looked just as worn down and tired as she did. The winter was affecting them all, the harsh cold and lack of food was eating away at them. Would they survive? We must find a fix for this, She would murmur to him for she feared the gods would not take pity on them and release the sun once more. The familiar flash of red was comforting, especially when he pressed against her side and his muzzle caressed his throat. She would lean into him, desperately seeking comfort in troubled times. She would not interject his conversation only because she did not know how to introduce him to the king. Her sister arrived next alongside Robin, who looked as though he might freeze to death before they even got started. No point in waiting any longer.
<P>
I would like to take down two. She would nod towards the herd. I will take Andruil and Paradise. Israfel, you can take your man, Robin and Citlali. We will attack in unison to avoid loosing the herd. I think come at them from opposite sides, trap them between us and bring down what we can. She would instruct, looking at each face, searching for agreement so they could set off.
<P>
@sirdue @Citlali @Israfel @andruil @Paradise @Robin @Indian @Warbler @Arlo @Cardinal @Pixie
<center><table border="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100px; "><tbody><tr><td colspan="2"><font size="2"><div style="background: url('http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x373/NeonPaws95/3d8d5fcf-74e4-44bc-82bc-8ef0d6c1f532_zpsdlzsfssk.jpg'); border: 5px solid #FFFFFF; -webkit-border-radius: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 100px; -o-border-radius: 100px; border-radius: 100px; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left; margin-bottom: -7px; margin-left: -15px;"></div><div style=" font: 30pt serif; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: 2px solid #FFFFFF; line-height: 25px; text-transform: lowercase; length: 30px; margin-top: 40px; padding-left: 50px; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #ffb6c1;">ISRAFEL VAN ORRICK</div><div style=" font: 10pt arial; letter-spacing: -2px; background-color: #FFFFFF; padding: 3px; length: 100px; text-align: center;  text-transform: uppercase; color: #ffb6c1;">Found&nbsp something&nbsp real&nbsp that's&nbsp out&nbsp of&nbsp touch</div><br></font></td></tr><tr><td style="opacity: 0.8; margin-bottom: -10px; "><font size="2"><div style=" font: 7pt verdana; width: 300px; line-height: 11px; padding: 5px 5px 5px 25px; text-align: justify; color: Silver; border-left: 2px solid #FFFFFF; margin-left: 40px;">
 
 

Empyrean wreath fastened in lively artistry upon thy monarchial dome adorned with flashing ivory crown, spiked and <i>furious</i>, would twist and rotate ever softly. Movements of garland but languid and analytical in their movements as husky baritone would thrum and play tunes upon frosted breeze; bubble gum kissers would lift, supple and elegant yet only the faintest sign of weariness did prance upon thy handsome features as highly set and chiseled cheek bones seemed more predominant then they had been sometime before. Achromatic lashes as thick as frosted pines would flick and <i>flutter</i> to cast an ever deep umbrage, even amidst the Cimmerian shade, upon features as skull would cant in a bow in the direction of the man who had spoken to him. <font color=#ffb6c1>”Indeed good Sir, I am Israfel Van Orrick. A pleasure to meet thee.”</font> Duplex tails which were sewn to the backside, seemed to move in an <i>ethereal</i> and eternal ballet as they <i>licked</i> and <i>kissed</i> at the bosom of the earth about him, clandestine in their marking of a internal map which he would sew and memorize into thy cerebrum. <p>


Peach tincture nares would flare and deflate as the virile bodice would fall and great plumes of heat would escape from within. Streams of tepidness to coil and wrap delicately about his features as if dancing and <i>kissing</i> in loving goodbyes as heat was snuffed away by the darkness and <i>bitter</i> chill. Chin tilted faintly to the side, auricles swiveling and listening as he stood beside his soldier. Lest’ once more as he listened to the Queen, her hearken lyrics to string harpist tune upon nipping zephyr would it be lips would coil and spring to life in a jovial grin, <i>warm</i> even amid the plague which wrapped tightly about them all. <font color=#ffb6c1>”Ah, Citlali.”</font> He would murmur, soft, yet husky baritone was thick and hardy and still would rumble loudly from jowls. <font color=#ffb6c1>”Much I have heard of you.”</font> -unseeing orbits did not peer in any general direction, as he was unaware of her location amid all the unfamiliar scents and voices- <font color=#ffb6c1>”Respectively, my Queen Caracara, but after this hunt concludes I ask permission to take Citlali back to the woodland corridors with us, as I have not forgotten our pact and I have yet to teach your Citlali the healing arts of which I know.”</font> Stalwart pillars would shift, espadrilles shifting in the embankments of powdery white as the behemoth stag king would prance forth a few steps, inviting those to the invitation of the hunt, sliding a few feet away from Si’drue, yet hoping his soldier would follow.










 
 
 
 
 
<font color=#ffb6c1>“Speech”</font>
 
 
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@Caracara
@Citlali
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